Border Sauce Communication
by lilyleia78
Summary: House buys Wilson lunch, but naturally he has an ulterior motive. Assumes established relationship, but no spoilers. Fluffy slash. New Chapter Two! *Order has been corrected to be chronological to the series
1. Worth a Thousand Words

**Written for a friend's birthday. She prompted me with Wilson's finding a hidden picture of House's childhood friend.**

Wilson stood in front of House's bookcase, considering it with a practiced eye. Somewhere in this apartment there were three of his McGill yearbooks, and Wilson refused to leave without them. The how and why of House's theft would require further inquiry at a later date. Today the important thing was to reclaim his property.

He'd almost dismissed the bookshelf as too obvious, but then a parody of 'The Princess Bride' started in his head: _He knows I'll look here first, so surely he wouldn't leave them here. But he knows I know he knows I'll look here first…_ Wilson shifted a pile of medical journals and discovered, not a stack of college memories, but a 4 x 6 mystery.

"What's this?" He waved the faded photograph in the general direction of the piano.

"That. Is. A. Picture," House said slowly, as if speaking to a mental patient.

"Really? I thought you were stealing souls again," Wilson put his free hand on his hip; the left continued to hold the picture aloft.

House rolled his eyes before relenting. "It's a picture of my best friend from when we were stationed Florida."

Wilson frowned in concentration, "That's over 30 years ago. You still have it?" He flipped over the photo to study the girl in the snapshot with renewed interest.

House shrugged. "I knew her for a long time. It seemed impolite to throw it away."

"Yes, I know how you like to avoid being rude." Wilson answered. He considered the girl for a few moments longer. Her face was scrunched up in amused exasperation, no doubt at something young Greg was saying or doing out of frame. Wilson knew that expression very well. "Tell me about her."

"Wilson," House groaned. "This is not show-and-tell time."

"Come on, you must have some story concocted. What's it gonna be - an insult to deflect the emotional significance? Or a grudgingly given backhanded compliment?" Wilson waited, but House's only response was to play a soft chord. Wilson cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "She really _was_ a good friend. What happened?"

House was obviously considering ignoring his best friend, but the weight of Wilson's stare forced him to answer.

"Nothing happened. Dad got stationed to Japan. We lost touch; we were only twelve after all."

Wilson sat back on the couch, still looking at the picture and said nothing. House absentmindedly played a slow bluesy tune. When he spoke into the silence, Wilson was riveted by tone of his voice, meshing with the low background music.

"I snuck out of a meet-the-neighbors party my parents were hosting, trying to avoid playing nice with all the officer's wives by hiding out in the park. Out of nowhere, a water balloon dropped from the sky and landed on my head."

Wilson could see the image of young House, water and bits of latex rolling down his face, slowly craning his neck up in bewilderment. He couldn't prevent a soft chortle from slipping out.

House grinned in response. "Well that's how it seemed, but it was actually thrown of a tree. I looked up and this little slip of a girl clambers down like a monkey, sticks her hand out for a handshake, and says 'Hi, I'm Katie.' As if instigating a one-sided water balloon fight is a perfectly acceptable way to introduce yourself."

"I imagine it is in the world of Greg House," Wilson noted.

House's eyes were obviously seeing some other time as he nodded. He told stories of skipping school, long sunny afternoons on the beach, and of sneaking away at night to sleep under his best friend's bed. He talked for the better part of an hour, never looking up from the melody he was softly playing.

When he wound down, Wilson smiled from his friend to the photo. "Why don't you frame it? Put it up somewhere."

"Because then all of my nosey guests will want to know who it is and why I keep it," House said pointedly.

"I already know why you keep it."

House did look at him then, very briefly. "Because of my inherent sense of politeness?"

"She meant – means – something to you," Wilson began. House groaned and dropped his head onto the piano. Wilson ignored him, warming to his topic. "She helped to shape your life. You still care about her, and you keep the photo to remember her and the person you were when you were with her."

"Thank you Dr. Wilson, PsyD," House grumbled with a disgusted shake of his head. "Did you go to school for 13 years to learn that people keep pictures of the things they love?"

"Love?" Wilson latched onto the word.

"Wilson!" House barked warningly. Wilson sent House a smug smile, but decided to let it go. They both knew he'd scored a victory with the admission, and that was enough for now.

Wilson sat in silence for several minutes, listening as House switched tunes to tinker with a song he'd been composing for almost the entire time Wilson had known him. Wilson secretly loved it when House pulled this particular tune out of his repertoire; it was his favorite. When the music petered out, House glared at him, the expression a complete contrast to the sweet, longing quality of the melody he'd been playing. "Go ahead and ask. I know you're dying to know."

Wilson gave him a sheepish look before asking, "Do you have a picture of me stashed somewhere?"

"Yes, but I keep it in the fun drawer under my playboys."

"Rrrriiight," Wilson stretched the word out to be sure his disbelief was obvious.

"You think I made you buy me that expensive high resolution digital camera for pictures of nature? It's great for catching candid moments of naked friends leaving the showers."

In case he was joking Wilson rolled his eyes. "So glad I could contribute to my own sexual harassment." In case House was serious he added, "I bet the picture would be better if I posed for it." Wilson keep his words free of inflection so that House could interpret the statement anyway he chose.

House looked up and let his gaze map out every inch of Wilson before he reached into his backpack for the camera. Wilson shifted so that he was wedged into the corner of the couch and stretched an arm over the back. Afraid that he would look ridiculous, he immediately pulled his arm down and put his hands in his lap. Too much like a naughty school kid, he decided. He shifted forward to stand. House stopped him with a gruff, "Stay still," followed by, "Say anal probe."

Wilson laughed out loud more from surprise than because it was funny. House pressed the shutter and Wilson stood to look at the photo over House's shoulder. It was a nice shot. Wilson's face was splint with the beginnings of laughter; his eyes crinkled attractively, hair perfectly in place despite the long day.

"Not bad," House decided. "It's fit for my mantle."

"Oh, your mantle. Does that mean you're going to claim me to any visitors that accidentally wander into you lair?"

House shrugged. "I'll tell them you're my favorite prostitute."

Wilson shook his head but made no attempt to hide his smile. He started back to his place on the couch, but House stopped him with a request. "Would you go check the hall closet for a frame? I want it ready after I photoshop your head onto Cuddy's body."

Ignoring the second part of that statement, Wilson changed directions. He found a box marked 'Photos' on the top shelf and, sensing a likely spot for a frame, pulled it down.

There were no picture frames inside but three cheap photo albums instead, the kind with sticky backing and clear plastic that was supposed to be bad for your photographs. House's statement about keeping pictures of things he loved still in his head, Wilson couldn't stop himself from taking a look.

The first one he opened was full of pictures of Blythe. After checking that House was still involved with his piano, Wilson quickly scanned the pages. Before his eyes Blythe matured from a young mother with a tiny blue bundle in her arms to the handsome woman on Wilson's own arm in the final photo, taken on her last visit.

The second one was also more or less expected. It was mostly shots of Stacy, both alone and with House, several of all three of them, and a smattering of other people they both knew. Toward the back there were a few candids of Cuddy, although none appeared to have been taken in the showers. Wilson was amused to note a single photo of Foreman, Cameron and Chase huddled around the whiteboard. He'd have to remember to tease House about that one later.

Wilson's grin faded to amazement when he opened the last album. Wilson was staring at a much younger version of himself, immortalized forever in a Polaroid with an expression of bewilderment frozen on his face.

"_House, what are you doing? I have a patient!" Wilson squinted at the sudden flash of the camera. _

"_Sorry, hospital rules. I have to take a photo of all the hot new doctors for the Dean of Medicine. She has to get her masturbatory materials somewhere."_

_Wilson blushed, years away from building up a resistance to House's brand of teasing. "House…" he began, but the other doctor was already gone. _

The cessation of music pulled Wilson from the memory, and he continued to flip through the album as House began plucking at his guitar instead. Younger Wilsons stared back at him from every page. Occasionally there was a hand, an arm, a hint of long hair to indicate that Wilson wasn't alone, but there was never anyone else in frame, unless it was House himself.

The last photo in the album was from his wedding to Bonnie. Again, only Wilson and his best man were in the picture, but Wilson could identify which wedding it was by House's unguarded smile, aimed at him instead of the camera.

"_Come on, House. The Best Man has to be in the wedding pictures," Wilson begged, desperate to prevent another fight between his best friend and his new bride._

"_Just because you want to tie yourself to these people forever," House's tone told Wilson in no uncertain terms how long he expected _that_ to last, "doesn't mean I want to be associated with them via still life."_

"_House," Wilson rubbed the back of his neck wearily. Something flashed in House's eyes at the gesture, gone too fast to be identified. He tugged Wilson's arm away from his neck and rolled his eyes dramatically._

"_Fine, you big baby. But just one, with just you."_

"_Fine," Wilson agreed eagerly, sure Bonnie wouldn't be disappointed to be missing House from the majority of her wedding album._

"_And you tell me where you're taking your honeymoon," House added smugly._

_Wilson's look was a mixture of irritation and regret. "I can't. I promised her two weeks of no hospital, no House."_

"_I won't call. I just want to know where you'll be so I can send sunshiny happy thoughts your way."_

"_And by sunshiny, happy thoughts you mean fake bomb threats."_

"_One time! I only did that once!" House exclaimed indignantly._

"_Yeah, well it's hard to forget being pulled out of a hotel because someone has called in a bomb threat against you specifically. My first wife was not very happy, and I doubt the second one would like it either."_

"_Number one had no sense of humor," House griped._

"_Yes, that's why I divorced her. I couldn't have someone around who didn't amuse you at all times," Wilson deadpanned._

_House grinned and the photographer snapped the picture. House gaped from the cameraman back to Wilson. "You little sneak, you set me up!"_

"_What?" Wilson blinked innocently at him. "I had no idea that was gonna happen."_

"_Of course not," House snorted. "Go ahead; enjoy your hospital-and-House-free honeymoon. I'll just hang out with Stacy; maybe play a few rounds of golf."_

"_I'm sure you'll manage fine without me," Wilson grinned._

"Or not," Wilson whispered, pushing back the memory of that particular homecoming. He checked the box again for more photo albums and smiled when he found his missing yearbooks instead.

"The new album's in the bookcase." House's voice made Wilson jump and drop the book he'd been holding.

"House," Wilson began.

House ignored him. "This picture," he said, holding up the camera to illustrate, "should fill it up."

Wilson just started at him, trying to read between the lines and get to House's real message, an activity at which he usually excelled. The older doctor smiled at him mockingly.

"You'll need a new one," Wilson hedged, trying to buy himself some time.

"Yes, you'll have to buy me something cool - maybe one of those digital frames that shuffle between the photos."

"People will think I'm a really good prostitute when they see that."

House's answering grin was like lightening, flashing across his face and gone in less time than it took to process the expression. "I don't mind them knowing if you don't. As long as they don't want to share."

"You've never shared me," Wilson kidded.

House looked down at the floor. The album Wilson had dropped was opened to the last page, with the picture from his second wedding. Wilson studied the photo with new eyes, noting the lightness and happiness radiating from the two of them, directed at each other.

"Nonsense," House told him. "I share you all the time." He looked up, a challenge in his eyes as crystal blue met soft brown. "But I think I'm done with that."

"I don't understand," Wilson admitted.

"Come on, boy genius. You already figured it out. Don't play dumb now, you know how I hate that," House admonished.

Wilson spoke his thought process out loud. "You deliberately sent me to the closet to find these. You're trying to tell me something."

House grunted. Maybe it was agreement, maybe it was 'you're an idiot, Wilson' or maybe he just felt the need to contribute to the conversation. .

"You kept these pictures because you care about me, because I'm important to you." Wilson studied the top of House's head as House took a sudden interest in the floor. "And because you love me," Wilson stated it as a fact, unable and unwilling to keep the hope from his voice.

House looked up, and even his mockery couldn't hide the relief on his face. "Wilson, you big girl! Can't some things just go unsaid?"

Wilson considered that for a moment before crossing his arms resolutely. "No, I think some things need to be said. At least once." And he looked at House expectantly.

"You mean right now?" House's look was incredulous, but his tone suggested anxiety.

"I'll make it worth your while," Wilson promised.

House went from nervous to intrigued in the blink of an eye. "How?"

"I'll help you replace the photo in your fun drawer."

House studied his face to be sure he was serious, stepped into Wilson's personal space and whispered huskily, "I love you."

Wilson had to buy a box with a lock for the photos they took that night.


	2. Reciprocity

Reciprocity

The steady throb of pain in House's thigh dragged him slowly from the safety of sleep. The throb was an old companion, familiar and almost gentle in comparison to the mind-shattering pain it had been in the beginning. This morning it was nothing more than a low pull on his consciousness, a persistent reminder that sometimes the best medicine was the preventative kind. Obedient to this one thing only, House flung an arm out to grope for his little orange lifeline.

"Ow," a sleepy voice complained when House's arm hit miles of smooth warm skin instead of the top of his nightstand. Instinctively, House began stroking, tracing the line of spine with his fingers as Wilson hummed appreciatively and arched into the caress.

House's mouth immediately bypassed his brain, and he whispered, "I love you." before he'd even had time to process this day as their official awkward 'morning after'

Wilson smiled groggily and shifted the necessary inch closer to place a sloppy, slightly sour kiss on House's lips. It took more willpower than most people would believe House possessed to stop himself from deepening the kiss, crushing Wilson to him and trying to outdo last night's impressive performance. Only the casual reminder from his thigh kept him in line.

"Morning breath," House complained instead, making a face.

Wilson let out a laugh on a puff of breath, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Really? Your breath is like sunshine and roses. Your love hasn't magically transformed my mouth into a self-cleaning cave of minty freshness?"

"No more love for you until you brush," House told him gruffly, leaning over Wilson to grab the bottle that had been his original goal. He swallowed one quickly, mentally reviewed the new activities he'd engaged in last night, and downed a second.

He glanced down at the man half pinned beneath him, prepared to give Wilson a lecture (or a cutting remark, those were really more his style) if Wilson thought that sleeping with House meant he could be even _more_ disapproving of his Vicodin habit. But Wilson was paying no attention to House's actions. Instead, he was staring with rapt fascination at House's throat. When he saw House noticing him, Wilson flashed him the smile that made women three states over swoon and leaned up to drag his tongue slowly from the spot capturing his attention to the curve of House's ear before slumping back down to the bed.

House shivered and cursed himself for being twelve kinds of an idiot before repeating, "Love you."

Wilson surged up again at the words and latched onto House's mouth with his own, thoroughly exploring every centimeter of House's palate with his tongue. When Wilson released him with two more small kisses to House's lower lip, House slid bonelessly down to his side of the bed, panting heavily.

Wilson propped himself up on an elbow to smile down at the older man. "See? Sunshine and roses," he remarked before sliding out of bed and padding down to the bathroom.

House watched the spectacular sight of Wilson's naked ass until it disappeared from his line of vision. Once there was no longer a good reason to be awake, House rolled over into the warm spot that Wilson had just vacated and allowed sleep to reclaim him.

The strangely domestic sounds of cooking woke House next. The smell of breakfast was enough to drag a weaker man out of bed and right into the welcoming embrace of morning. But House was not a weaker man. He wasn't going to get up one second earlier than normal; no matter how much Wilson tried to seduce him with pancakes and syrup. It was important to set the rules of their relationship early, before Wilson got any ideas.

House remained stubbornly in bed for another fifteen minutes, imagining Wilson literally seducing him with syrup, before deciding that it wouldn't be setting a dangerous precedent if he got up just a couple minutes early. He could always be that much later to work. And, as a bonus, he could even blame Wilson for making him late.

House smiled contentedly to himself, imagining the look on Cuddy's face when he told her that Wilson's insatiable sex drive had made him late, pulled on a pair of discarded sweatpants and padded down to the kitchen on bare feet. House sat at his table and dug into the plate of pancakes and bacon that were waiting for him. Wilson's own plate was already rinsed and in the dishwasher. And, dear god, was he humming?

"Well, aren't we Suzie Homemaker this morning?" House snarled. Wilson's only response was to swoop down for another kiss on his way out of the room. Annoyed with Wilson's continued good mood, House pressed, "Are you nesting? I thought you said you were on the pill."

"Don't worry. I'll still go out and bring home the bacon; you can be the barefoot and pregnant one in this relationship," Wilson called from the front room as he pulled on his jacket. "But stay out of the kitchen unless you're planning on doing the dishes."

"Fat chance," House muttered to his plate.

"See you at work," Wilson said from the open front door, smirking over his shoulder before adding, "Honey."

House threw a napkin at him, and Wilson's laughter lingered in House's head long after he'd left. The sound sustained him through his slightly-later-than usual arrival at work, through two hours of hiding from clinic duty, and left him feeling almost happy about Cameron 'accidentally' acquiring a new patient for them just before lunch.

Almost.

"Okay fine," he said off of Cameron's pleading look, walking out of his office as he spoke. "We can keep him, but you have to feed him and walk him and clean up after him if he wees on the carpet."

"Where are you going?" she asked, hurrying down the hall after him.

"Afternoon delight," House answered, already opening the door to Wilson's office.

Wilson, obviously on his way out, stopped in the middle of putting on his lab coat and raised an eyebrow speculatively. "Oh? Were you planning on seducing me over lunch?"

"If by seduce, you mean jerk you off against this door, then yes." House grabbed the sleeve of Wilson's coat and pulled until Wilson was a leaning against him, pressing into House, their combined weight slamming the door shut in Cameron's face.

"Wilson, don't encourage him," Cameron called from the hall, "We have a patient to see."

House hissed in annoyance and yelled back, "Stop cock blocking me. Go run some tests or something."

"Tests for what? You haven't even looked over his file yet." It was amazing how she managed to project her disapproval through a closed door.

"Sorry, busy now," House answered. Then, smiling wickedly at Wilson, "Oh yeah, baby. Right there. Harder."

"What are you doing?" Wilson whispered. His hands, unfortunately, were nowhere near House's groin.

"Just declaring my undying devotion for you to my employee," House whispered back between groans. Wilson kissed House's neck softly and buried his face there to stifle a laugh. After a few more minutes of pornographic noises House shuddered dramatically and with a loud "Wilson, I love you" reached the 'climax' of his performance.

Wilson leaned back to kiss House through his laughter and whispered, "You're an idiot."

House cocked his head with a frown. "I don't believe that's the appropriate response to a declaration of love."

"No?" Wilson asked, still laughing. He leaned in to brush another kiss across House's lips and said, "Lunch is on my desk. I have a consult across town, but I'll pick you up after work?" When House nodded, he continued with a grin, "Try not to damage anyone permanently while I'm gone."

House hopped aside to let Wilson pass. He heard Wilson apologize to Cameron out in the hall. "Sorry about that. Apparently, House needed to declare his undying devotion to me."

"Right," Cameron said, in a tone that implied she doubted Wilson's sincerity. "I notice you didn't feel the need to declare it back."

"Exhibitionism isn't really my thing."

If there was more to Wilson's answer it was lost as House heard two sets of footsteps walking away from the door. House frowned to himself. He replayed the events of the past two days over in his head, and noticed that while he'd used the l-word (and not the fun one) four times (which probably made him the woman in the relationship), Wilson had yet to answer in kind. Not even that first time, when Wilson had been the one insisting that House had to say it at least once.

House mentally scolded himself for being a girl and made his way across the small room to see what Wilson had left him for lunch. He pushed all thoughts of intimate confessions from his mind, and the rest of the day flew by quickly with their patient stymieing the team's best efforts to diagnose him and some sort of interpersonal issue cropping up between Chase and Foreman that kept House amused for most of the afternoon.

In fact, when House looked up from the white board to find Wilson staring at him from the doorway, he was surprised by the lateness of the hour.

"Is there something on my face?" House asked with a faux glare.

"No," Wilson answered with some confusion, stepping fully into the conference room and approaching House.

"Then why are you staring?" House growled.

"I missed you," Wilson admitted somewhat sheepishly.

House tried and failed to suppress a smile. "It's been…" House checked his watch, "…six hours."

Wilson shrugged and nodded amicably.

"Great, I'm in love with a big sap," House said, fighting a smile.

Wilson's eyes smiled even as his lips brushed gently across the corner of House's mouth. "So I've heard," the oncologist said as he stepped back.

"I'm glad one of us has," House grumbled, unaware that Cameron's stupid comment was still bothering him until the words had passed his lips.

Wilson's forehead wrinkled in confusion, causing his eyebrows to inch closer together. "What?"

House rolled his eyes both at Wilson's incomprehension and at his own stupidity for speaking up in the first place. Well, if Wilson wanted to know what was going on, far be it for House to withhold the information from him. This was a teaching hospital after all. "I _said _that I'm glad at least one of has heard."

Wilson's eyebrows continued their dance by shooting up in unison, taking cover under the hair over his forehead. "You've never heard that you love me? Would you like me to carry around a tape recorder?"

House found himself desperately hoping that Wilson was mocking him. Surely his best friend couldn't be as obtuse as he was currently behaving. "No, I've heard myself say it. Several times in fact." Even through his fury House noted the corners of Wilson's mouth tugging up at his uncharacteristic admission of devotion. "What I'm not hearing is any reciprocation."

Wilson stared at him for a long moment, blinked once, and shook his head as if to clear it. "It's reciprocated."

House scowled at him. "You have a funny way of showing it."

"Do I? I thought I'd been doing a good job of _showing_ it." Wilson's voice held a note of exasperation. House had the feeling he was being lectured at, but the lesson eluded him for the moment.

Showing it. House's overworked intellect only took a moment to latch onto the word. He reviewed every 'I love you' he'd uttered to Wilson again, thought about Wilson's response each time he'd said not just the actual words, but anything that implied them, and tested the theory. "I love you," he told the man facing him.

And right on cue, Wilson's face lit up and he leaned in for a kiss.

"I thought," Wilson began, pulling away only enough to look House in the eye. "I mean they're just words, and everyone lies. Especially me, especially about that."

House tried to stop him before this became a little more like a heartfelt conversation than he was comfortable with, "Wilson…"

Apparently Wilson had put a lot of thought into this; he overrode House's objection and pushed on. "I've said those words to soothe bruised feelings, to prolong broken relationships, to get myself out of trouble. I've said them so much I wasn't sure you'd believe they still hold meaning for me. And I didn't want them to be meaningless, not with you."

House pulled Wilson closer to him so that they were breathing the same air. "You're an idiot," he grumbled. "And so am I."

Wilson arched an eyebrow. "Of course, if I'd known you were going to go all soft on me I'd have made the big romantic gesture. Want me to go onto the balcony and scream 'James Wilson loves Greg House?'"

Wilson was teasing; House knew that for a fact, but his heart still surged as the words were finally spoken. They hung in the air briefly between them before House was devouring Wilson with his mouth.

Wilson pulled back, flushed and breathless, eyes laughing. "Whatever happened to reciprocity?"

"This is reciprocity," House smirked. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "What do I have to say to get in your pants?"

Wilson's expression turned mischievous. "Why don't you try a few things? See what works. I know how much you enjoy an experiment."

House opened his mouth to start his testing, but his patient chose that moment to have a life-threatening crisis. He groaned at his beeping pager, "Inconsiderate jerk. How dare he interfere with my steamy office sex?"

Wilson gave one short bark of laughter as he headed out the door. "No fishbowl office sex for you I'm afraid."

House sighed dramatically, shoulders slumping in dejection. "Spoilsport."

"That's me," Wilson called over his shoulder, "responsible, boring, and all around killjoy. But I do love you."

You're more than a lover  
There could never be another  
To make me feel the way you do  
Oh we just get closer  
I fall in love all over  
Everytime I look at you  
I don't know where I'd be  
Without you here with me  
Life with you makes perfect sense  
You're my best friend  
You're my best friend, oh yeah


	3. Bordersauce Communication

**Bordersauce Communication**

"Taco Bell?" Wilson asked incredulously. He stared dubiously at the plastic bag his best friend had unceremoniously dumped on his desk.

"I'm thinking outside the Chinese Food carton," House answered solemnly.

"Yes, well. What better way to repay my lovingly prepared home-cooked meals than with half a pound of processed beans and rice?"

"I got you cinnamon twists too," House pointed out. "Besides I like the sayings on the Border sauce."

Wilson snorted and took out his food. House was carefully removing his sauce packets and reading them to himself.

"Look Wilson, this one says '_I'm taking the day off. See next packet_.' Think I could tape it to my door and go home?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll be just fine with Cuddy. We'll just tell her the taco sauce made you do it." Wilson said while checking out his own sauce packet.

"I've left with less of an excuse before. What's yours say?"

Wilson checked. "_Will you marry me?_" He braced himself for a scathing reply.

"Huh? Even your food knows you're the marrying kind." The diagnostician said mildly. He read his next one. "_Tah Dah!'_ I can carry that one around and whip it out next time I cleverly diagnosis a patient in time to save their pathetic little life."

Wilson rolled his eyes and grabbed the next sauce from his bag. "_Will you marry me?'_ again."

"Interesting," was all House said. "_Will you scratch my back?_ Excellent, now I can get back scratches without even opening my mouth."

Wilson rolled his eyes but didn't reply. He had just pulled his third _Will you marry me? _packet. No way was he going to invite scorn by reading that one aloud again. Luckily, House seemed preoccupied with his own packets.

"_The feeling is mutual'_ Oh so many uses for that," House said wistfully.

"You are really determined to communicate via sauce packets today, aren't you?" Wilson joked. He looked up with a smile, but his expression turned inquisitive when House met his gaze with an incredibly intense look.

"Yes, I am."

Wilson stared at the other man for a moment and looked down at the packets in his bag. Hands shaking slightly, he pulled them out and flipped all 10 over so that they were face up. Every single one said the same thing, '_Will you marry me?' _He searched House's face carefully. Before either man could speak, House's pager went off.

"Gotta go. Lives to save, taco sauce packets to abuse," House said airily and rushed off.

Wilson regarded the packets a little longer, glanced at his watch, and decided to go shopping.

***

When Wilson returned to the hospital, purchase in hand, the first thing he did was check House's office. It was empty, but the backpack on the chair let him know that House hadn't yet left for the day.

_Perfect, _Wilson thought to himself. He arranged things to his liking and returned to his own office. In the middle of House's desk sat a small, cellophane bag of personalized M&M's. Written on each one of them was a single word – Yes.


	4. Wedding Negotiations

**Wedding Negotiations**

When House found the bag of M&Ms on his desk, his first thought was _'Cool, free candy!' _His second thought was that Kutner was sucking up again. But every thought he had stopped abruptly when he opened the bag and found a plain gold band among the chocolate candies.

_Romantic sap_, House scoffed affectionately as he slipped the ring on his finger. It was a perfect fit, and how Wilson knew his ring size was a mystery. House stared at the band for a minute, thoughts churning. Coming to a conclusion, he hauled himself up and headed for the balcony.

He hopped over the dividing wall and banged into Wilson's office. It was getting late and Wilson was alone. Too bad really, Wilson hardly ever responded appropriately to his dramatic entrances. An audience would have been nice.

"We'd better get a few things straight right now," he warned plopping down on the couch.

Wilson glanced up from his paperwork briefly before returning his attention back to the chart he was reviewing. It was subtle, but House didn't miss the way those brown eyes had searched out his left hand before looking away. He grinned. If Wilson wanted to act like getting engaged was an everyday occurrence, he was game. _For Wilson it practically is an everyday occurrence_. House thought to himself.

"I'm not going along with any ridiculous wedding traditions. You've had lots of opportunities to get that crap out of your system." House growled.

Wilson deliberately finished his task and put everything away before responding. He folded his hands atop his desk and gave House his full attention. House wondered if this was what James's patients felt like when they were being evaluated.

"What are you counting as ridiculous wedding traditions?" he asked sensibly.

"No throwing bouquets, no unity candles, no throwing rice," House began.

"I think you're supposed to throw bird seed now. The rice expands in bird's stomachs. Bird lovers are afraid they'll blow up." Wilson told him.

"That would be cool. Rice throwing is back up for consideration," House said before continuing his list. "No receiving line, no temple, no carrying someone across the threshold and under no circumstances is my dad going to be walking me down the aisle."

Wilson smiled at the image, but managed to stifle his laughter. "So you're obviously the bride then. Will you be wearing a white gown?"

House glowered at him. "You get to be the bride. You've already played groom three times. I won't make you wear the gown and veil, but you will have to wear a garter of my choosing."

Wilson's grin grew. "Should I move out for awhile to preserve the sanctity of the wedding night?"

House looked horrified. "You'd deprive your fiancé of sex? You're supposed to love, honor and obey, not torture."

Wilson gave up the battle to hold in his laughter. "Okay. What about a reception?"

House considered the matter. "A small one. I want chocolate cake, but no smashing it in my face."

"You behave, and I'll behave. That's all I can promise. Shattering the glass?"

House hesitated now. He didn't really believe in any of that religious crap, but, "Is it important to you?"

Wilson shrugged. "It's important to my mother."

"Fine, but I get to pick our music."

"Done. Anything else?"

"Yes. None of this stupid name hyphenating thing. I'm staying House. You can call yourself whatever you want."

"Fair enough," Wilson said. "What are your feelings about a honeymoon?"

"An excuse to take an extra vacation that includes you naked? What do you _think_ my feelings are on that?"

"I'll take that as a yes. It sounds like we've got ourselves a deal. Do you want to shake on it?" Wilson's tone was serious, but his eyes sparkled with mirth.

House leered at him. "Take me home and I can think of a more fun way to seal the deal."

Wilson came around the desk and offered a hand. House took it and pulled himself up. Wilson kept hold of the hand, staring at his ring and gently stroking his thumb over it. House watched the oncologist for a moment before reaching his right hand into his pocket. He pulled out a gold band of his own.

Wilson looked up into startling blue eyes and held out his left hand, never releasing House. House slipped the ring on. It was also a perfect fit, but that wasn't surprising. House had ways of getting information he wanted.

House pressed a tender to kiss to Wilson's lips and then retrieved his cane. "Let's go home."


	5. Best Man

**Interlude**

"So how about it? Wanna be my best man?" House asked, carefully not looking at the woman he was addressing.

Cuddy smothered an affectionate smile and put a heavy dose of doubt in her voice. "You know I'm not actually a man, right?"

"Really?" House asked mockingly. "And here I thought those were airbags you were carrying around on your chest." He flapped a hand at her dismissively. "You're not a real doctor either. That doesn't stop you from making all the underlings call you one anyway."

Cuddy shot him a withering look and House rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. It's not difficult or anything: I've done it lots of times. You just keep track of Wilson's ring and then make a raunchy speech extolling my sexual prowess. I'll get you my list of hookers if you need research material."

"If I agree to this will you go away?"

"I promise."

"Fine. I'll be your best man…woman…whatever," Cuddy agreed as she made shooing motions.

"The best woman at a gay wedding? How hard could that be?"

"House," Cuddy said warningly, rubbing the spot between her eyes where her headache was forming.

"I know, I promised. You won't see me the rest of the day." Something in House's voice sounded alarms in her head.

"You mean until clinic," Cuddy ordered.

House was shuffling out of her door at top speed. "Sorry, gotta go. I wanna see if Cameron will be the flower girl. See you tomorrow!"


	6. Honeymoon Negotiations

**Honeymoon Negotiations**

"We don't have to go anywhere. Just give me a bed and lots of lube and I'm a happy husband."

"Please stop. I can't handle this level of romance at work," Wilson replied deadpan.

"Fine, give me a bed, lots of lube and some candles. Anything to make my man happy," House said in a tone that suggested this was a great sacrifice.

"Wow, I have never felt more loved than I do right now," Wilson said as he returned his attention back to the brochures he'd picked up from his travel agent. "Maybe this bed could have an ocean view?"

"Why? I don't intend to have the curtains open," House eyed Wilson speculatively. "Unless you're into that sort of thing…"

Wilson just smiled enigmatically at his fiancé. "Seriously, we have to decide today so I can make the reservations."

"Seriously I don't see why we can't honeymoon in my – _our_ – bed, our couch, our bathtub, our kitchen table, our..."

"I see where you're going with this, and I appreciate your confidence in our stamina and the sturdiness of our furniture. However, we really have to leave town."

"Why?" House whined.

"Because if we stay here your drones will track you down," Wilson answered. "They'll have some fascinating, unsolvable case. Foreman will forbid them to ask for your help and, because you've trained them so well, they'll find you just to spite him."

"Then you'll just have to provide me with something more interesting to do than treat this hypothetical patient," House leered.

"24 hours a day for a week solid? I'll chafe."

"Fine," House sighed. "Wuss. No beaches though; they're not handicap accessible. And I want someplace with Soapnet."

"So your only requirements are no beaches and Soapnet," Wilson clarified.

"No my only requirements are you naked and lube, but if we must be away from the comforts of home then I need to have access to my soaps. It'll keep me entertained while you recuperate between the fun bits."

"Great!" Wilson said cheerfully. "Disney World it is."

"Fine," House nodded. "Wait, what? You want to spend our honeymoon with a giant talking mouse?"

"It's the happiest place on earth," Wilson said as if that explained everything. House mumbled something unintelligible. "What was that?" Wilson asked, bracing himself for a scathing retort.

House rolled his eyes and repeated in an irritated tone. "Good, then I'll fit right in."

Wilson stared at him in stunned silence for a few minutes before leaning over and planting a hungry kiss on House's mouth.

"Take me home, House. I want to fuck you right through the mattress."

House swallowed against the dryness in his throat and vowed to give this romance thing a try more often. Much more often…


	7. Party plans

"I need you to throw Wilson a bachelor party," House announced to Foreman as he strode into the conference room. "Get Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb here to help," he continued with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of Kutner and Taub.

Then with a speculative look at Thirteen he added, "You too. You've got bigger balls than the other two put together."

"Neat!" Kutner declared, bouncing in his chair with excitement.

"No," Foreman scowled. "Not neat. You can't just demand that we throw Wilson a party."

"I thought you liked Wilson," House said with a look of confusion. "Is this a racial thing? He's Jewish, so you don't want to get drunk with him at a strip club?"

Foreman rolled his eyes but didn't bother to dignify that with a response. Taking his silence as an invitation to continue, House went on, "Or is because we're gay?" He glanced quickly at Thirteen. "Bi, whatever. No, it can't be that. I've seen the way you look at Chase."

The neurologist began to say something, thought better of it, and visibly calmed himself before speaking. "Shouldn't the best man be doing something? Or is there no one out there willing to stand up for Wilson while he throws his life away on you?"

"Ouch. Careful there Sparky – you might give me the impression you don't think I'm good enough for The Boy Wonder."

"Wouldn't want to do that," Thirteen muttered while pointedly studying the charts on the table.

House gave her his best wounded puppy look, which she completely ignored, before answering Foreman's question. "Wilson's brother fully supports us." Off of Taub's skeptical look, he amended, "Okay, fully supports Wilson. He can't come down until right before the wedding, but he offered to pay if someone else will take over organization."

"I'm surprised you didn't just take the money and run," Thirteen said with a sigh, reluctantly being pulled into the conversation.

"I can't believe you think so little of me!"

House took a moment to enjoy the looks on the faces of his fellows. Thirteen, Taub, and Foreman were coming along nicely, he decided. Their 'you're an idiot' looks were almost on par with his. Kutner though…he looked torn between guilt and indignation on his behalf. If he didn't know better, House would swear that boy was Cameron and Chase's love child.

Remembering why they were giving him these fascinating looks, House defended himself further. "I would never take money from my future brother-in-law."

"Because Wilson wouldn't let him." The deeply familiar voice came from the conference room doorway. House turned to face his beloved.

"Wilson," he whined. "You're going to ruin my selfless reputation."

A quick grin flashed across the oncologist's face before it was replaced with a look of sympathetic concern. "Sorry. I didn't mean to shatter anybody's illusions of the kind-hearted, generous Dr. Gregory House."

A snort escaped Foreman, and House spared him a scowl before turning his attention back to Wilson. "What are you doing here? Aren't there adorable, balding kids you could be saving?"

"Nah, only the ugly ones are left." Wilson shrugged.

House's mouth twitched in an involuntary smile. "I see."

"I came to make sure you weren't coercing your staff into throwing a party for me against their will," Wilson explained. Although there was no venom in his voice, Foreman and Taub had the grace to look abashed.

"He's not forcing us," Kutner insisted. "We want to."

Wilson glanced at the enthusiastic young man and then quirked an eyebrow at House. House rolled his eyes in answer.

Out loud Wilson responded directly to the eager fellow. "There's no need. I got a volunteer."

House frowned. Before he could investigate this new development, a young blonde man walked in. Glancing up from the clipboard in his hands, Chase's eyes fell on Wilson.

"Here you are. Should've known. Do you want to provide food for the party or should we stick to tradition and offer a liquid diet only?"

House cut off Wilson's answer. "You volunteered?"

When Chase nodded, Forman injected his opinion, "Suck-up."

Chase leveled a look of incredulity at him. "It's a free party with alcohol, strippers, and a ban on House. I'm not a suck-up. _You're_ short sighted."

Taub and Kutner verbally fell all over themselves trying to volunteer any help he needed. Foreman, with as much dignity as he could muster, announced, "I'll help. For Wilson, of course."

"Of course," Wilson said dryly.

"Aww," House cooed. "Is my sweetie feeling unwanted? I still love you Pookie."

Wilson's brow furrowed briefly with real concern for House's sanity, but then he caught the identical looks of horror on the faces of the others in the room. He moved closer. "Do you really, Sugar Lips?"

"Of course Honey Bear." House pulled Wilson into his arms.

"I love you too, Sweet Cheeks." Wilson snuggled his face into House's neck to hide the mirth threatening to burst out of him.

"Want to bend me over the desk and show me how much?" House raised his voice to be certain the entire floor heard him.

Wilson was still laughing long after the five other doctors had fled the scene.


	8. Holding out for a Hero

"Cuddy," House mused to his best man, "have I ever told you about the recurring nightmare I've been having since getting engaged?"

"Does it involve black ties, a string quartet, and fish eggs served on crackers?" She asked in a defeated voice as she and House surveyed the described scene playing out before them.

"No actually, there's a big bowl of curry and Taub in a speedo." House pulled a face to convey the depths of his terror before continuing. "But I think that's all going to change after tonight. From here on out it'll be nothing but sweet, sweet dreams of revenge upon the perpetrator of this freak show."

"I know." Cuddy muttered darkly, apparently to herself. "I'll have her head."

House tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her. Noticing the scrutiny, Cuddy said, "I'm sorry. She was so eager, and I didn't think anyone _could_ screw up a bachelor party for heaven's sake."

House was confused, a feeling he hated. His scowl deepened. "This is my bachelor party? I thought you'd just duped me into attending one of your little charity events that the donors like so much."

"I let Cameron plan it." Cuddy sighed in defeat then placed her hands on her hips defensively, turning to face House. "Believe it or not, House. I actually have a lot of other things on my plate besides being your best man, like that little hobby of mine, what is it? Oh yeah, running a hospital. Cameron offered to help."

"She couldn't have helped with something less important? Like signing off on nurse's rotations, or placating self-important windbags."

"I thought planning this bachelor party was placating a self-important windbag." Cuddy said.

House ignored that completely. He was looking around the banquet room with a mixture of incredulity and dismay on his face. "So instead of putting her somewhere where she'd do the least amount of damage, you let her set up a black-tie cocktail party in this, this pathetic excuse for a luxury hotel?"

"I didn't _let_ her exactly," Cuddy protested. "She told me she wanted to use a hotel. It was for you; I assumed her reasons were nefarious."

"You weren't at all suspicious of the invitations requesting 'black tie"

Cuddy cringed, but rolled her eyes defiantly. "High class prostitutes?"

"You wish," House retorted.

Cameron approached the man of the hour with a huge smile, her eyes sparkling with delight. "House! Are you surprised? Isn't it wonderful?" She turned to survey the crowd of hospital personnel mingling near the refreshment table.

"Oh, yeah. Just like my senior prom – filled with lots of people I don't like and no chance of me getting laid."

Cameron's face fell in spectacular fashion before it hardened in anger. "At your age, I'd thought you'd prefer something slightly more dignified than a dimly light room of naked bodies."

"Thinking's not really your strong suit, is it?" House asked.

The blonde woman threw up her hands in defeat and stomped away muttering darkly, "I don't know why I even try."

"At least Wilson's having fun," House said to no one in particular as he slumped into a chair.

Cuddy quietly excused herself and flipped open her phone. Maybe she could avoid the 100 hours of clinic duty she was going to have to let House out of to make this fiasco up to him if she did some fast talking.

**

House was seconds away from faking a seizure in order to escape the tedium that had become his life when he heard a commotion from nearby, possibly the hotel lobby. It sounded like someone out there was enjoying their night a lot more than he was enjoying his. He wondered if anyone would notice if he joined the fun crowd. Not that he cared if they did.

There was no time to contemplate any further action as the doors to their private banquet room were flung open. Framed in the doorway, like some shining knight of old, stood Wilson, behind him, his glorious army – of strippers.

"My hero," House whispered gratefully to himself.

Wilson made a beeline for his astonished fiancé while the professionals accompanying him quickly took over the room. House grinned gleefully when the string quartet in the corner was usurped by the jazz trio Wilson had brought along.

"I'm here to rescue you," Wilson announced proudly as he took a seat next to House.

"You just couldn't resist could you?"

"You know me and damsels in distress."

House scowled at the description, but Wilson was not to be deterred. He wrapped his hands around House's waist and drug the other man onto his lap, so effortlessly careful of the right leg that House almost didn't notice.

Pulling a face of annoyance, but not moving from his perch, House took a moment to survey his reformed party. Taub was chatting up a slim brunette whom House was certain was really a man. Kutner had drug Thirteen out onto the dance floor. Or maybe it was the other way around; House had missed that part. Foreman was holding court with a group of wide-eyed innocents (must be friends of Cameron, House thought to himself). Cameron herself was standing in a corner, pouting and deliberately ignoring the gaggle of strippers showering their attention on Chase.

And man where there a lot of strippers. House was glad that Wilson's brother had paid for them. House liked strippers, but there had to be a least a dozen. That couldn't be cheap. Although, he appreciated that they were currently giving Wilson the erection pressed happily against his hip.

He turned toward his fiancé to say something snarky about his libido and found warm brown eyes caressing his back. _Oh_, he thought stupidly, _not the strippers then_.

Surrounded by beautiful half-naked men and women, the panty peeler of Princeton-Plainsboro wanted him. Warmth that he thought he should be used to by now filled him, and he knew he'd have gladly paid the wages of every stripper in New Jersey _and_ New York just for this knowledge. Although pain of death and/or rehab wouldn't make it him admit that out loud.

If he'd had two healthy legs, House would have spun around to straddle the object of his desire. He would have pushed his burgeoning erection into Wilson's already hard one and rocked them steadily together until his dress pants were covered in two kinds of cum. And damn the audience.

Instead he turned until Wilson's cock was lined up against his ass crack and wiggled as if settling himself. Above the music and cheering crowd he heard Wilson gasp. House smiled wickedly and began to rock ever-so-slowly on Wilson's lap.

Wilson's hands shot out to frantically to grab House's hips. Whether to stop him or speed him up House wasn't sure, and he didn't wait to find out. He stood up as quickly as he could in his condition and held out a hand for his lover.

Wilson ignored it and stood up on his own. House didn't move and now they were standing chest-to-chest. Wilson reached up to cup the back of House's neck and pulled him in for an agonizingly tender kiss. House swiped his tongue across Wilson's lips, and the other man opened for him. He thrust is tongue in forcefully and rhythmically, in mimicry of want he wanted, turning the sweet kiss frantic and dirty.

Wilson got the message. He turned and led the way toward the reception desk. House glanced back at the party, hoping everyone noticed him leaving with the hottest guy in the room and saw Cuddy smiling at them. Grudgingly he admitted to himself that maybe she wasn't the worst best man after all.


	9. Committed

"Come on. There's gambling and legalized prostitution!" House whined.

"Believe it or not House, neither of those things is actually a selling point for me. If you wanted to elope, you should have thought of that a couple of months ago." Wilson pointed out.

"And that's another thing, why did this have to take so long?"

Wilson sighed. They had discussed this many times over the past three months. And Wilson had explained _again_ on the long ride to his parents' house. "My mother insisted this was the fastest she could put anything together. Give her a break. She has three boys. She never thought she'd get to plan a wedding, even if it is a handful of people in her backyard."

"So you admit you're the bride?"

"I am the one wearing the garter."

House was instantly pressed against Wilson, hand clenching at the garter hidden under pants. "I could fix that for you," he said huskily.

Wilson scowled and batted House's hand away, but his eyes belied his disapproving expression. "Get off you letch. You'll have to wait until you've made an honest man of me."

"An honest man out of _you_? Great, now I'll never get laid," House smirked but, for once, did as he was told and picked up his cane. "Alright, let's get this over with." He paused before opening the door. "See you out there. I'll be the unbearably handsome one bitching about my best man's breasts taking attention away from my special day."

Wilson grinned and made shooing motions with his hands. House limped out, and Wilson laughed out loud when he saw both of their mothers snatch the older man up. Then he turned to the mirror, straightened his hair, and took a deep breath before following.

He met House in his parent's backyard in front of his family's rabbi. His mother had been disappointed when he vetoed the idea of walking down the aisle with her. He had argued that the slow march was an unnecessary hardship on House. And while that was true, the real reason was that he didn't want _anyone_ giving House to him. He'd been given three women to take care of and had failed. Failure with House was not an option.

When it came time to recite their vows, Wilson went with the standard route. He'd done the traditional Jewish thing, he'd done the writing-his-own, and he'd even done the written-by-his-future-wife thing. But when he did some online research he discovered that a variation on the conventional seemed to say everything that needed to be said.

"House, I take you to be my not-quite-lawfully wedded husband," Wilson began. The side of House's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both shall live. I take you with all your faults and your strengths as I offer myself to you with my faults and strengths."

Wilson paused briefly for House's inevitable comment about who drew the short straw, but the older man was uncharacteristically silent. So Wilson concluded, "I will help you when you need help, and I will turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life."

House, who hadn't bothered to find out what Wilson would be saying, could only stare in wonderment for a few moments. Wilson pretended not to notice the shine in House's eyes as he gently nudged the other man. "I know, put that way I'm obviously getting a raw deal." House smiled gratefully as the ensuing laughter gave him a moment to compose himself. "You say stuff now," Wilson told him a stage whisper.

Instead House limped over to the band and sat at the piano. When he began to play, the small crowd in the yard became silent. Wilson was sure he wouldn't have realized they were still there even if they'd been shouting.

He recognized the piece as one House had tinkered with many times over the years. It was their story, Wilson realized with a start. It had no lyrics, but Wilson heard the words anyway. There in the beginning was joy and discovery; every once in awhile melancholy would creep in, more often the song was loud, passionate, and untamed. And running through the whole thing was love and longing.

After exchanging rings and kissing his new husband, House used his cane to dramatically help Wilson shatter the glass. The gathered crowd cheered uproariously, and the rabbi said those magical words. "I now pronounce you doomed for life."

Cuddy's scolding cry of "House!" could barely be heard over Wilson's hearty laughter. Oh, yes he was doomed. And he had big plans to love every minute of it.


	10. The New Part is Chapter Two

There is a new chapter – Reciprocity – that is now chapter two b/c I have just re-ordered the chapters to reflect the chronology of the story instead of the order in which I wrote them. Sorry for any confusion, hope you enjoy the new bit (or the whole thing if you're discovering the story for the first time).

Thanks!

Lilyleia78


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